The World Needs Dragons
Thunder echoes over the hills. Rain pours onto the camp, making mud of the shoeprints, hoofprints and pawprints around the firepit. Prints that lead up to motorhomes, broken-down trailers, and row upon row of old nylon tents.
Rain drips, glistening, off of a leaf, onto a hoof that sticks out of a tent flap. From inside comes snoring as loud as the thunder.
The next few tents are large, two or three rooms each, turned sideways with stakes overlapping. Finally, at the end is a tiny gray pup tent, a dome with a rain fly on top.
The sun rises past the rainclouds outside, and one half of its wall become lighted. Inside, a mess of brown hair attached to a sleeping bag tosses and turns, rolling over and curling on its other side to face away from the light. A boyish, human face can be seen for a moment, before burying itself up to its hair in the sack.
It squirms a bit more, trying to get comfortable, and on top of a backpack next to it a tiny gray piece of plastic and glass tilts precariously. It falls, and lands next to a puddle, inches away from short-circuiting.
A blue light turns on, on its rim. Then its glass front lights up, and on top of its menu of apps an overlay reads “1 NEW MESSAGE” next to an envelope icon. After a moment it blanks, and the blue light pulses softly as rain continues to pour outside.
I did not want to get up that morning.
Yes, I heard that one tiger going around the camp shouting for everyone to get up. That’s what woke me up in the first place. I’ve always been a light sleeper, and he has a good set of lungs besides. I just didn’t want to climb out of my sleeping bag. Because I was still groggy, and because I’d been having the most amazing dream.
I was an anthro in my dream, but I wasn’t an anthro animal. I was an anthro dragon. As in golden scales, leathery wings … that kind of dragon. I was flying over a bay somewhere, right up next to the water’s surface, getting the spray in my face. Dipping my clawtips into the water as I flew past it, feeling my wingtips touch it as they beat. I took a deep breath and breathed fire in front of me, an enormous jet like a flamethrower, and I inhaled the mist that it kicked up and felt it on my scales.
I remember I was flying towards a city across the bay, someplace huge with a lot of lights. Then I was inside the city, and these people were trying to catch me for some reason. But I instinctively used some kind of magic powers, shooting these things like ball lightning at them and leaping so high I could clear traffic lights. I still remember the rush from jumping up so high, and then coming back down and touching the pavement.
They were still on my trail somehow, so I used some other ability to make myself blend in with the crowd, even though I still looked like a dragon to myself. I remember my pursuers pushed past me, looking for me, and I just grinned at them-
“GET UP!”
He was right outside my tent that time. I jumped, entangling myself in my sleeping bag, then flopped back down and groaned. My heart was racing and my hair was frazzled, but my eyes did not want to open.
I fumbled around for my glasses, putting them on and trying to straighten my hair out. Then I stepped outside of my sleeping bag, and into a puddle right next to the door. Moaning, I dug in my pack for a towel while trying to keep my foot still, so as not to get anything else wet. I put the towel down and used my foot to push it around a little, trying to dry my toes off …
That’s when I noticed the light on my phone was on.
A minute later I ran out of there, rushing to finish my morning routine and get breakfast. I didn’t think about the pancakes I was eating, the sun in my eyes, or the inchworm crawling up the bench next to me. And it didn’t even bother me to have to sit next to Ann and Aisha. The two coyotes were gabbing on like they always were, but my eyes were on the phone’s screen, thumb scrolling through text as I ate there on autopilot.
Aisha’s hairbeads jangled as she turned her head to look down at me. “What’re you looking at?” she asked.
I immediately locked my phone, the screen blanking. “Stuff,” I said.
“What kind of stuff?” Ann asked, from around her.
“Just stuff,” I said, even though it wasn’t just anything. I was speaking on auto too, my mind still on the message.
“I bet it’s his SpaceBook page.” Aisha nudged Ann. “He got a new girlfriend online, and now that’s all he can think about.”
They squealed, and started talking about who she might be and what she must be like. I finished the rest of my breakfast quickly, and put my dishes into the bin where that one deer was scrubbing them before walking to a safe distance. I quickly read the message, remembering the time before It had happened.
I remembered the homeschool group my mom used to have me in. She taught me at home, so my only classmates were my brother and sisters. But every few weeks we’d get together with the kids from the other families in our group, and do something like bowling or roller skating.
I know the stereotype of the homeschooled kid is that he doesn’t know how to socialize. But a lot of the kids there were friendly and outgoing. I was the odd one out because of how shy I was and because of my interests. And I remembered the girls that I’d wanted to talk to — the ones who’d occasionally taken pity on me, and asked me to dance or asked what I was working on — and wondered which one had emailed me. She’d remembered what group we’d been in, but she hadn’t mentioned her name. Not that I remembered any of their names; I’m horrible with things like that.
Work began as usual soon after breakfast. The horses and bears and other big anthros chopped wood, lugged things around, and drew plows through the muddy fields. I heard gunshots echo through the woods, as that tiger and his brother brought down their new kills. And I got soaked with sweat and with condensation, dragging coolers and ice around and biking them out to the fields where the anthros were working. A couple times I had to turn back around, because I was so lost in my thoughts I just about rode out of camp.
What would I say to her? I wondered. How would I answer each question? I mean, I knew why I wasn’t an anthro yet — the kinds that were easy to get didn’t appeal to me, and the tougher ones didn’t make sense. All the species I actually liked were too hard for me to get, and I liked being human, besides. I wouldn’t trade it for dragging a plow through the mud like the cattle were, at any rate, and living in close proximity to members of the other local species had taken away much of their appeal. I didn’t know what I wanted … I just knew that I wasn’t ready yet.
My legs were sore from biking through mud, as I walked my bike up the hill for lunchtime. I kicked off some of the crud on the tires and tied my bike to a post before walking to Alvin’s trailer to get my phone back from him, shielding my eyes from the glare on his solar panels. My phone had recharged, and I knew I would need it at lunch.
For lunch I sat next to Melinda, the big cow anthro who runs the camp and sews half of everyone’s clothing. She was talking to her husband while eating, and I kind of pushed around my mac and cheese while thinking about what to say. I kept scrolling through words on the screen, writing and rewriting answers in my head but not ready to put them down yet.
Before I knew it, Melinda was stacking her dishes and getting up. “Zach?” she asked.
I looked up, my face blank and my mind elsewhere.
“Zach, finish and put up your dishes. You can play with your phone later.”
That was Melinda … everyone’s mom. But there was no arguing with her. I put my phone up and kept thinking about what to say while I ate.
The rest of the day’s chores took way too long. I kept checking the time on my watch. Every now and then I would steal away and try to type something out, but someone would always catch me and ask me to help them with something. I’d gotten a reputation last year for tiring easily and taking breaks to play games on my phone, so I got teased about that a lot that afternoon. I just ignored them, lost in my thoughts.
Dinner was yet another outdoor meal, since there were no signs of rainclouds. I ate slowly, tired and worn out, and tried to focus my brain on the message. But it wouldn’t, and I knew that I’d have to just finish and sit down someplace quiet. I put up my dishes and wandered off, knowing that I would miss out on dessert. Knowing I needed some time to myself to think.
I sat down on the big stump that they use for chopping wood. Then I leaned back on it and looked up at the sky. I lay there for a long time, long enough to notice it start to get dark.
Finally, I sat up and wrote.
“Hello!
“I don’t remember you, but there were a lot of kids there. I’d be happy to get reacquainted. 
“Things have been pretty good for me. I’m living in a camp outside of Chicago. We don’t get a lot of visitors since we’re so close to the town. It’s quiet … too quiet (lol).
“And no, I’m still a human … don’t want to be one of the horses or oxen (ugh), don’t like the other local species that much.”
I paused for a moment, thumbs poised above the glass screen, thinking. Remembering my dream from last night.
“If I had the choice I’d go with something like ‘dragon’. Wouldn’t that be awesome? Seriously.
“Hope to hear back from you soon!
“– Zach”
I tapped “Send,” and looked up at the sky. It was dark, and I could see the first stars now. It occurred to me I was chilly.
People shouted to each other in a friendly way, from the fire way back at the camp. I waited another long moment before pocketing my phone and heading back there, hoping they still had some homemade marshmallows.
That night, Zach has the dream again, the one where he is a dragon. This is the fourth time now that he’s had it. His pursuers still haven’t caught him, and he’s learned even more abilities.
When Zach wakes up the next morning, he’s forgotten about it. His brain has moved on to another dream, and it’s the one that gets interrupted when the tiger yells to get up.
But then he checks his email, and sees the quoted sentence where he said what sort of animal he wanted to be. And he remembers last night’s dream. He spends a long moment remembering it, thinking it silly right now in the daylight but unable to deny that it’d been fun. And he remembers how real it had felt, and wishes that he could fall back asleep and do that again.
Then he continues reading. The next sentence all but makes his heart stop.
“How would you like to become a dragon?”
Crickets chirped. Owls hooted. Mosquitoes buzzed next to my ears.
I shooed them away, then straightened out my headset and made sure it was attached to my phone correctly before laying back down on the stump. I could see the full moon overhead, but it only disgusted me. The full moon was supposed to be good for transformations, but nothing had happened last night.
I sighed. “This hasn’t been working … ”
“It will,” said Laura, over my headset. Her voice sounded older and more determined than mine.
“This is the third time you’ve tried to walk me through this.”
“Practice makes perfect.”
I didn’t argue. I didn’t want to argue. I didn’t have any energy left. I’d spent all day hauling ice water back and forth, and had been up late two nights in a row already, trying to do this. I finally just groaned and let my body go limp, sprawling out across the wide stump and trying to get comfortable. Another mosquito buzzed at my ear, but I was too drowsy to care.
“Okay,” she said. “Close your eyes, and take five deep breaths.”
I counted them, exhaling right next to the microphone. One … two … three … four … five.
“Let your body go limp, and relax.”
I’d already done so most of the way. Now I withdrew all of my energy from it, controlling nothing except for my breathing.
She spoke, setting the stage … making it seem like I was someplace else, a place where anything could happen. Then describing the changes; skin turning to scales, fingertips becoming claws. Wings sprouting. Face elongating.
It was the same routine as the last couple of nights. The same hypnotic suggestions. But something different happened this time. I actually felt it. Not in the hazy way that you feel things in dreams, either. I mean my skin was crawling, my breath was racing, and I was excited but scared because something was happening to me. I gripped the edge of the stump with my hands and felt claws dig into it, as wings unfolded where I lay and spread to either side of me.
I think she could tell what was happening to me, because her voice seemed more confident than last night. “Now, stand,” she commanded. And I obeyed, slowly, not wanting to break the spell.
Looking back on it, that’s when things started to get murky. I mean, the feelings were all there, of having tight scales and claws and new limbs. But my muzzle was blurry in front of me, and while I could see golden scales on bare arms in the moonlight I couldn’t focus on them.
Laura asked me a question. I don’t remember what it was. I was still exploring these new feelings, my wings folding and tail swishing behind me. Worried that talking, or moving my muzzle, would make everything go away.
She asked me another question, but I still wasn’t listening. There was something I had to do, despite how fragile everything was … something I needed to know.
I got out my phone, the screen blanked to save power during a call. I turned around slowly, until the moon could shine on its glass face. Then I tilted it in my hand until I could see my reflection.
My eyes met with a dark, shapeless mass.
That’s when the world fell apart. It was like my new body shattered; like all my scales were torn off. I writhed on the grass clutching my ears and my arms. Everything, from the soft grass to my clothes, stung and burned where it touched my skin. I cried out in pain.
“What’s wrong?” Laura asked. But her voice seemed a million times louder. I tore off the headset and threw it aside, still attached to my cellphone. Then I started whimpering, still rocking back and forth, in so much pain that I was starting to grow numb.
I should’ve known, I thought. I should’ve known.
They found me the next day. I’d spent the whole night in agony, surging and waning as I tried in vain to ignore it. By sunrise it had mostly gone away, but every time that one tiger shouted I had to clutch my ears, even through it was a long way away.
I was completely useless that day. I tried to curl up in my tent, but I couldn’t get back to sleep. The sunlight was too bright, the inside of my sleeping bag was too warm, and every sound was too piercing. I alternated between covering my eyes and ears until my arm muscles got sore, wishing that I had earplugs, or a real bed, or even a snack. But I couldn’t make myself get up. I had no energy. I felt terrible.
The worst part was I was so tired that the whole world seemed like a dream. I could remember that wonderful dream, could remember the feelings I’d had last night, but I couldn’t make them come back. Why couldn’t I? The world seemed so unfair.
I thought of all of the anthros out there in the camp … bigger, stronger, and seemingly more important than me. I thought of them all, and I wished that I could be a dragon.
That evening I finally caught a few hours of dreamless sleep. I staggered out while everyone was gathered around the firepit, and managed to get leftovers out of the coolers. I wasn’t as hungry as I’d thought I was, but it’d been awhile. I didn’t go anywhere near the fire because it was so bright and the people around it were so loud.
Finally, it occurred to me to check my email and voice mail. I hesitated at first, because of what’d happened last night. But I had one new voice message, so I finally put on my headset, turned the volume almost all the way down, and listened.
“Hi, Zach,” said Laura’s voice. “I don’t know what happened last night, but it sounded like you got hurt. I hope you’re okay.
“I didn’t mean to hurt or upset you. I was just trying to help you awaken your dragon blood.
“Yes, you heard me right. Most people don’t have dreams like yours. But I do, and it’s because I’m a dragon too, trapped in a human body like you are. It’s discouraging and it’s frustrating, because every night I remember what it was like to be a dragon, and what the world was like before humans came. But they took it from me, and they’ve taken it from you, and that’s why we only remember in dreams.
“There is a way to physically become a dragon. I’ve found a place where human scientists bred dragons in captivity before It happened. They treated our kin like livestock, and they got what they deserved. But our kin might be trapped there still, living or dead or in eggs, and I want to go there and free them. And absorb enough of their essence inside a soulgem that I can break it and become a dragon.
“I wanted to make sure that you’re one of my kind before telling you about this. That’s why I asked about your dreams, and why I used the ancient rituals to awaken your dragon side. You can put it to sleep again, just like it’s been sleeping your whole life and living in dreams. I won’t blame you if you do. But if you don’t, then please come with me. I need your help.”
There was a pause. I could hear her breathing, and feel sweat dripping down my sides.
“Don’t tell the humans,” she warned. “Or the animals they’ve become. Because if you do, I’ll come back here as a dragon, and I’ll kill you myself.”
There was a click, and the voice mail ended.
I sat there limp, leaning up against the outer wall of the shed, feeling as scared and powerless as I had last night.
Feeling afraid of her. And feeling afraid of myself.
Somewhere in between the camp and the city, a red-haired young woman curses, and throws her smartphone into her pack. “Argh, I’m so stupid!” she shouts. “Why did I tell him that? Why did I say all of it? No one would ever believe me!”
She spends the next few minutes pacing around her campfire, moping and kicking up dirt. Trying to calm herself down. Wishing she’d taken the time to write it out, and see how it looked and revise it. “I’m going to have to start over … ” she frets. “I’m going to have to find someone else … ”
She clenches and unclenches her fists, still burning with shame and embarrassment. Around her, crickets and night insects chirp.
Finally she sits down on her sleeping bag, digs out her smartphone and starts playing a game to distract herself. It’s going to be a long night.
“Melinda?”
“Yes?” She looked up from her knitting. Her husband was apparently getting ready for bed or something; she was one of the only ones left at the fire.
I hesitated for a long moment, not sure how to go about this. But she was still looking down at me, so I tried to swallow my fear. “Um … have you ever heard of anyone becoming a mythical creature anthro?”
“A mythical creature? Like what?”
“Well, like a dragon … ” I sweated harder as I spoke the word. “Or like a phoenix, or gryphon, or something,” I quickly added.
“I’ve seen a gryphon before,” she said, resuming her knitting. “She was a cross of a hawk and a mountain lion. Sort of like how Mark got a coyote-deer soulgem.”
“Well, yeah … but what about dragons?” I hated having to say it again. It felt like I was giving myself away. And looking up at her, taller than me even while sitting down on a log, I felt like I was talking to a dragon … or something equally powerful. I felt so small and afraid.
Melinda just kept clicking her needles around the rug she was making. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one,” she said. “I’ve heard rumors, but they’re from so far away that they could have been monitor lizards.”
What she said next startled me: “Not that I’d rule it out, mind. The world is a different place now.”
My heart skipped a beat at that, and I tried to calm myself down. I was still tired, still in shock … knowing that what Laura had told me was unbelievable, but feeling deep down that it wasn’t. The world didn’t seem quite real at that moment.
It was a while before I could speak again. I coughed to clear my throat, and said “D-do you think … ”
Melinda looked down at me, concerned.
I hurried to finish. “Do you think it’s possible that some people are meant to be a certain kind of animal? Or mythical creature,” I hastily added.
“I wouldn’t know,” she said, still looking down at me. “I’d hope not. It would be sad to get stuck as an anthro you weren’t meant to be.”
I fidgeted.
“Why?” she asked. “Do you feel you’re a dragon inside?”
My face turned red, and I began sweating all over. I looked away from her, trying to think of a response, but I couldn’t come up with one.
“Zach?”
I just stood there, dumb and unable to speak, feeling like she could see right through me and knew what had happened and everything. And knew how I felt inside. I couldn’t deal with it … I just turned and walked away, feeling her eyes on me as I did so.
I tried to make sure no one was following me as I went back out to the stump. No one usually paid much attention to me, but after what had happened I was paranoid, and scared that I’d given myself away. It didn’t help that anthros could be so stealthy that I’d never see one if it were there.
Shaking, I used my phone as a flashlight, shining it all around the clearing where the stump was and trying to check around trees at the edges. I knew that it’d do me no good, since I was so slow and so obvious, but it’s like my brain wouldn’t let me not do it. I spent five or ten minutes checking like that before finally sitting down on the stump, putting on my headset with shaking hands and dialing Laura’s voice number.
“Zach?” she asked, and it startled me.
“Yes,” I whispered, shaking.
“Have you, uh, given any thought to my offer?”
“I felt it … ” I was still whispering.
“Hm?”
“Somehow, it worked. I could feel it, all of it. But then I tried to look at my reflection, and something went wrong … ” I explained as best as I could, leaving out the part where I’d tried to talk to Melinda about it.
“Ah … I’m sorry. The ancient powers can be … unpredictable like that.” She sounded uncomfortable.
“I believe you,” I told her, and swallowed to moisten my mouth. “I believe that you’re a dragon. And it scares me, but I believe that I am too.”
“You do?” Laura sounded like she was caught off-guard by that. “I mean … that’s good, that you do.” She coughed. “So what are you going to do now?”
“Why can’t they tell?” I asked. “When they look at each other through soulgems. When they look at me. Why can’t they tell that I’m not human?”
“Well, you know that the word ‘soulgem’ is a misnomer.” She sounded like she’d expected to have to answer this question. “They don’t see your actual spirit when they look at you through them, and they can’t use them to absorb animals’ spirits, either. All soulgems can detect or absorb is a sort of spiritual residue that’s given off by living bodies.”
“Ah, and since my body is human … ”
“You’re giving off human energy, correct.”
“So I guess that it wouldn’t do you any good to kill me and absorb my energy, then.”
“Huh?” She laughed, nervously. “Oh, no, no … ”
“Okay, then.” I was nervous, too.
“So … ” There was a pause. “I guess you need some time to think about it?”
“No, I’m coming with you.” I rushed to explain. “Those were the most amazing feelings I’ve ever had. It just felt right to be a dragon. I’ve always known that most animals weren’t for me, but I didn’t know what I was until last night. Now I know, and I want it. And if you’re a dragon inside too, then I want to help you as well.”
” … okay, then!” She let out her breath, seeming relieved. “Here’s what we have to do … ”
The next day is another busy one. The spring sowing still needs to be done, and the big, important anthros are moving about, calling out to each other and hauling loads back and forth. They notice when they don’t have ice water, and they think it’s because that scatterbrained kid is playing his video games again. They don’t ask what he was up to when he returns. They just chastise him and drink thirstily.
They don’t notice when he’s not there at lunchtime. They don’t see him getting things ready. Even when Melinda sees him next to the supply sheds, she just asks him to get something out for the salad. He does so, and slips away again afterwards.
A pile of materials grows in his tent, unnoticed and un-missed by anyone. Humans and anthros walk past it dozens of times, out to the fields and back to the camp. The tiger sees him climbing out of his tent, and Zach is startled to see him but the tiger does not notice. He just asks him a question about his smartphone. Zach is embarrassed and sweating, but he answers it, and the tiger goes on his way. Then Zach exits and zips up the door to his tent, and stands there a moment catching his breath before somebody shouts for ice water.
That evening, he eats quickly and tries to get away, but somebody notices and calls out to him from the basin with the dirty dishes. He pleads and his face contorts, but the kangaroo shakes her head. He stops in mid-protest, and stands there for a long moment before walking over and scrubbing the dishes with her, methodically and without stopping. His face is expressionless, and he does not even check his watch or ask the time once.
An hour later she thanks him for his help, and he nods quickly and departs. First at a brisk walk, then at a run. There’s so much he still needs to do to get ready, and he’s already late.
It was a long hike into the city. A couple years ago I wouldn’t have been able to manage it, but after spending those last few months running and biking around camp I was in better shape than I’d ever been. Which was good, because if I hadn’t had that “runner’s high” from walking so fast I would’ve been scared to death, trying to pass through the suburbs. There were fires in the distance and the shadows were long, and I didn’t dare turn on my flashlight.
I knew that I was no match for an anthro. Fortunately, I’d brought a secret weapon. I just hoped I’d have the time to use it if things came to that.
There was no traffic, downtown. There were no insects, or other people around. Cars had been swept to the sides of the street, or crumpled to bits by things that had rolled over them. It was my first time in Chicago since It’d happened, and it felt like I was in an ancient, petrified forest. If there was any life here, it was either hiding or moving fast, trying not to be seen. Sort of like me.
I caught up with Laura around 7 AM, four breaks and three energy bars after setting out. (My sleep schedule was still messed up from staying awake the whole night that one time, so it felt more like late evening.) I saw her downtown from a ways off, and called her on my phone to make sure it was her. When the tiny figure in the parking lot answered her phone, I stepped up the pace.
“What took you so long?” she asked, over my headset. She sounded upset.
“I was kept after dinner,” I said, short of breath as I hurried to meet up with her. “Plus I’m not used to this. Sorry.”
“I stayed up here all night, and I almost fell asleep … ”
I let her rant, and concentrated on maintaining my pace and breathing rate. I would’ve been upset too, to be left out here … I could sense fear under her words. “Why didn’t you call?” she asked.
“You didn’t pick up,” I said. “Did you leave it on silent?”
There was no answer. I hurried the rest of the way up to her, hanging up my phone as I did so.
I would’ve been more nervous about meeting her in person if I hadn’t been so exhausted. As it was, catching up to her was a relief. She was a bit shorter than I was and dressed all in black … not exactly a professional catburglar, but trying her darndest. Her face was lined with stress, and didn’t look much older than mine.
There was one thing that confused me, though. “Did you dye your hair?” I asked.
She blinked at me. “Huh?”
“It’s bright red,” I told her. “I don’t remember any redheads in our group.”
“Oh, um, yes … ” She coughed. “And you’ve grown a lot, haven’t you!”
We both stood there awkwardly, for a moment.
“So … ” she said. “Are you ready to go now?”
I sat down on the curb, wincing, and stretched my legs. “Give me a few minutes to rest … ”
“Okay, then.”
I was still sore when we set out the rest of the way. But she assured me it wouldn’t be dangerous. She hoped.
As they walk, they come to a part of the city that looks more rundown … and torn down. Skyscrapers have toppled over or crumbled in half, crushing smaller buildings beneath. The top of one of them is blocking the street, and the two squeeze around it, careful of the broken glass.
On the other side is a mountain of torn, cracking road, wrecked cars pooled around at its edges. In the center is an enormous crystal growth coming out of the ground, half the height of the buildings around it but wider. It glows faintly, so transparent that it can hardly be seen … especially from the ground.
“Laura” and Zach pause for a moment, staring at the mound. But they don’t look up at the crystal. They don’t even acknowledge it’s there. Instead they hurry around the mountain of asphalt at its base, suddenly holding each others’ hands. Going slowly at first, picking their way around the debris. Then running down a side street, around an abandoned tank, not stopping until they’ve scurried into an alley like the tiny mammals they are.
The sun rises over the buildings behind them. And the crystal shines, its rays lighting the streets and the buildings around it in a strange, transcendent glow.
My stomach had tightened in knots, and my legs had just given out. I was slumped down next to the wall, gasping for breath, while Laura did the same on the opposite site of the alley. It was awhile before either of us could say anything.
“I thought … ” I was still trying to catch my breath. “I thought we weren’t going to make it.”
She just nodded, too worn-out to say anything else.
More long minutes passed. I turned my head and saw the street we’d just left shining, walls and windows seeming to sparkle.
On instinct I turned away from it. I wanted to look, but it was more dangerous than staring at the sun. Instead I looked up at Laura, who was starting to get to her feet.
“It’s right down here,” she said. “Come on. Help me move the generator.”
” … the generator?”
It turned out to be an old gas-powered generator, with a blanket and things piled on top of it to disguise it from view. The rags around it smelled like gasoline, and the smell got to my head and made me dizzy.
After what we’d just been through we could only move it a few feet at a time, and it seemed like it took forever to get it to where we were going … even though it was just around the corner, an unmarked door in the side of the alley. The steps leading up to it almost killed my back.
Finally we set the thing down just outside the door, and she fumbled with lockpicks. “You’ve got fuel for this,” I said. “Right?”
“Enough.” She opened the door.
The lights were off, inside. It smelled hollow and cavernous; cold and damp. All I could see for awhile was the floor pattern, as we hauled the generator inside. Then Laura shut the door, and I could see tiny pinpricks of light … and hear running computers, inside.
“Wait … ” I said. “This place has power already? Then why do we need-”
Laura turned on a flashlight, and I squinted and looked where it was pointing. “That’s where they’re keeping them,” she said.
It looked like a blast door … solid metal, heavy and big. There were dents and scrapes all over its surface, especially around the seams and the edges. And there were places where it looked like a blowtorch had been taken to it. Not that it’d done a lot.
There was a computer terminal of some kind, in the wall right next to it. It looked like it’d been cut out and then hastily crammed back in, and its lights and the screen were dead. A panel beneath it was open, and cables and drywall were spilled out beneath.
“This place is running on emergency power,” Laura said. “It’s been this way since It happened.” She started hauling the generator again, and I picked up the other end. “I tried to … hack the terminal,” she grunted, “but it didn’t work.” We set the generator down next to it, and she looked up at me. “I just ended up cutting the power to it.”
“So, wait … ” I was trying to catch my breath, too. “You just needed me to help you haul this thing in here? Or … ”
She didn’t answer.
I watched her work with the cables beneath the terminal. They were a mess, but it looked like she knew what she was doing. Pretty soon she had them spliced around some kind of adapter, and plugged it into the generator.
“Cover your ears,” she said.
I did so, just in time. The generator was loud, especially in that enclosed space. It gave off smoke like car exhaust, and I found myself wondering how long we’d have before we got carbon monoxide poisoning.
I was looking away when she gestured to me. I looked back and she was pointing at the terminal, while looking at me. She tried to say something, but I couldn’t hear it over the noise.
I gave her a confused look. She gave me an irritated look and said something again, still pointing at the terminal.
I pointed at myself and shook my head, helplessly. What’d she want me to do? I thought. Hack into the terminal? Everyone back at camp thought I was good with smartphones, but that was just because they didn’t know how to use them.
Laura rolled her eyes, and stepped over and pulled me by the hand over to the terminal. Then she held my face up to it.
I didn’t struggle, because I figured she knew what she was doing. But I was confused. And my eyes were so close to the screen and the cameras right over it that I couldn’t see anything … except for a scan line tracing down it, along with a 3d picture of my face, as Laura held the flashlight on me.
Finally a green light came on, and she pulled me back. “DR. ASHCROFT — VERIFIED,” the screen said. And it showed my picture, in stereoscopic 3d, next to … another stereoscopic picture of me, this time wearing a white lab coat.
Huh?
I stared at Laura, but she wasn’t looking at me. Instead, she was looking up at the door.
It was opening.
I held my breath. What was inside? Vials of DNA samples? Unhatched eggs? An entire, underground kingdom of living-
I saw Laura recoil first. Then the stench hit me, too. It smelled like rotten eggs and rancid milk, and it was almost overpowering. I found myself leaning against the generator to steady myself, but the way it was vibrating was not helping my stomach any. I felt so sick I didn’t have anything left to be heartbroken with.
Laura went inside, and a moment later I followed, holding my breath before I went in.
I could feel the cold and the stench on my face as I entered, like walking into a clammy mist. There were row upon row of industrial freezers, some of them with their glass doors open and fluids spilling out from mysterious containers. Also eggs, cracked open and rotten and smashed on the floor. Some were smaller than hens’ eggs, others were bigger than ostriches’.
All were smashed, or warm and decaying. All of them … except one.
We both saw it at the same time. It was on the shelf in the last operational freezer, the only one with a light on in front. Laura nodded to it, urgently, and I hurried to the door and opened it. The inside was like a meat locker; the air smelled fresh, but it burned my lungs it was so cold.
The egg was one of the larger ones. I tried to pick it up, but my fingers almost stuck to it, scraping a layer of frost as they did. Thinking quickly, I took off my coat and wrapped it around the egg, then took it in both arms and hurried out of the room.
Laura turned off the generator and left it there, then held the front door open for me. I ran outside and gasped for breath, then looked around just in time to see Laura throw up over the stair railing. I looked away fast, and tried not to think about it as my own stomach lurched.
Finally, she finished, although she looked and sounded queasy. “This way,” she said, and hurried down an alleyway, clutching her stomach. I followed her.
We sat on opposite sides of the fire she’d started beneath an emergency stairwell, the egg bundled in my coat like a nest. Water dripped down its outside.
“Turn it around,” Laura said, without looking up.
I rotated it. The side that was facing the fire was burning hot. “Are you trying to cook it?” I asked, incredulous.
“I’m trying to let it thaw.”
I moved it farther away from the fire.
She sat there, motionless, arms wrapped around her knees. Looking down at the fire. I looked up at the sky and the roofs of buildings, and my gaze lingered on the sparkling shine of the concrete edges above for a long moment. Then I looked back down at the egg.
It was awhile before either of us said anything.
“I guess a printout didn’t cut it?” I asked.
“Huh?” She looked up.
“For the biometric security. A printout of his face wouldn’t work because the scanner was stereoscopic.”
“Laura” looked back down at the fire, and shivered.
“How long did it take you to find me?” I asked. “To find someone who looked enough like him?”
She hesitated a moment before admitting “Three days.” She didn’t look up as she spoke. “There were a half-dozen matches online, but most of them had disappeared. When I found you, and you lived so close to Chicago, I … I thought it was a sign.”
“From whom? The ancient dragons?”
She sighed, and then nodded.
“Bull.”
“Zach-”
“What story would you have used if I hadn’t bought that one? Would you have tried to tell me there were jewels in there? Shown me a treasure map? Told me you’d found my parents!?” My voice got more shrill until I was screaming at her. It echoed.
“When you had that dream, I thought it was a sign too … ”
“So you lied to me.”
She looked up. “I was trying to help-”
“You lied to me. You made everything up. You made it all up as you went, and didn’t bother to say you were playing pretend.” I turned the egg over, again. “So what’s this from, then? An emu? A roc?”
“Laura” stood, suddenly furious. “You listen to me, boy. That egg is a dragon egg. And I don’t know about you, but I am a dragon inside.” She pointed at herself. “I’ve had those dreams almost every night since before It happened. I saw dragon civilization. I lived it. Those filthy humans took it away from me, and I want it back.”
I shook my head slowly, feigning sadness. “You’re so good at lying, you’ve managed to lie to yourself.”
“What did you say?”
I just looked up at her, calmly. It was a while before she spoke.
“Give me the egg,” she finally said.
“Fine.” I unwrapped my coat from it, and slung my coat over one shoulder before picking the egg up and handing it to her.
She took it and smashed it against the wall.
“What did you do that for?” I shouted.
“What, you think I can raise one of these things? It would just suffer and die, if it even hatched. The only reason I came here was so I can do this.” She took out a clear soulgem, and held it over the remains. And I looked down, down at …
It looked like a blur at first, and it reminded me of the blur in my screen when I looked at my reflection. The shape that didn’t make sense … that didn’t match to anything I could recognize. For a long moment, I worried that she was right.
Then it’s like something clicked, in my brain, and I started to recognize what I was seeing. The teeth, claws, pebbled scales slick with half-frozen slime … the eyes squeezed shut, forever. And I realized what I was looking at.
“That’s not a dragon!” I exclaimed.
“Yes, it is!” Laura hissed.
“No, it’s not!” I shouted back at her, as the mists swirled in her crystal to create a true soulgem. “It’s a dinosaur! That was some kind of genetics lab!”
“Of course it was! And where do you think dragon stories come from, anyway? Huh?” Laura snapped.
“So, wait.” I folded my arms. “Did you have dreams of being a dragon dragon or a dinosaur dragon? Because I was the kind that flies and breathes fire.”
She didn’t answer, but just looked down at her soulgem.
“How much of this did you make up? Do you even know where the line between your pretend games and the real world is, anymore? How do you-”
“I know what the humans did to me!” she yelled.
I watched her clenching and unlenching her fists, like she was trying to say something else but couldn’t. “I know what they took,” she finished.
On another day, I would’ve felt sorry for her. At the time, though, I couldn’t care less.
“From you or the ‘dragons?’” I asked, making air quotes.
“Both.”
“You know humans supposedly weren’t around at the same time as the dinosaurs.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Her voice became growl-y and snarling. “That’s all you creatures ever do. You take and take and destroy everything, and you kill what you can’t take.”
I glanced down at the egg. “Well, then it looks like you finished our job for us. I hope you’re happy.”
She screamed, and shattered the soulgem at her feet.
That’s when I took off running.
Back at the camp just outside the city, people are starting to notice that Zach is missing. No one can find him or his smartphone, and they get an error message when they try to call.
Meanwhile, someone in a shed is opening a lockbox, and counting the dim soulgems slotted into the top, held tight to the foam padding by elastic bands. One of the loops in the middle hangs slack, empty. The label taped to the foam rubber behind it reads “Six-Lined Racerunner.”
I’d never used a soulgem before, not even the “dim” kind that didn’t cause permanent change. I’d been given the chance once, but I was too shy.
Right now I didn’t have time to worry, or even to think about it. I threw the gem down as I ran, jumping through the cloud and trying to keep running in the couple of seconds it took me to change. I stumbled a moment, scraping my hands on the ground, but they healed over as they became slick and leathery. My glasses fell off as I ran, but my eyesight and vision changed at about the same time that I grew a whiplike lizard tail. And after that I took off like nobody’s business, running out of the alley and turning right down the street.
A minute ago I’d been exhausted. Now I felt full of energy, more alive than ever, air rushing past my earholes as I ran faster than I’d ever biked. I wondered if this was what it was like for other anthros, and couldn’t believe that I hadn’t done this sooner.
I looked back just in time to see something run out of the alley and crash into an abandoned car, kicking off of it and stumbling after me. It was shaped sort of like her and wearing her clothes, but it had a long rigid tail, and was leaning almost all the way forward as it ran. Its arms were spread out like pincers, and its bare feet had huge sickle-claws like curved daggers.
I was still disoriented by having my eyes on the sides of my head, but I could see rows of sharp teeth, and a murderous face that I remembered from countless dinosaur movies and games. It was catching up alarmingly fast now that we were both on a straight track, even though I was in Racerunner form. I remembered phrases like “cheetah speed,” from the dinosaur movies and games, and realized that I needed to do something fast.
Up ahead of me, a skyscraper had fallen over, and crushed the buildings on the other side. I took a deep breath and sprinted towards it, changing lanes before running up the back of a car and jumping from it to the van in front; then leaping up to the open windowframe and grabbing on, pulling myself through the part that wasn’t rimmed with broken glass.
Because of the angle the building was at, it didn’t look like a structure at all to me. Just an obstacle course, with parts that were shaped vaguely like furniture. I took a half-second to get my bearings before running through the first open, side-tilted door that I saw, using my tail and my hands to steady myself and push off of things. When I got to a stairwell I started climbing on the sideways bars. I’d never been good at climbing, but when I heard her crash into the room I’d come in at I took off up that rail like nobody’s business.
A moment later I saw her much closer as she tore into the stairwell, clawing drywall and wood framing aside. “Come back here!” she shouted up at me.
“Heck no,” I breathed, panting with exertion as I tried to climb. I saw a doorway above me and started making for it.
“Stupid human mess,” she said to herself, surveying the landscape, before climbing the railing behind me. Her sickle-claws had wallpaper stuck to them, and kept clanging on metal and getting stuck in the rails. “I’m glad I’m not human anymore!” she called out, while trying to untangle her feet. “The world doesn’t need you! You’re an endangered species, and you’re going to die out!”
I paused, hands on the edge of the doorway above me and feet on the railing, and looked down at her. “The world needs humans,” I growled, just loud enough that she could hear me. Then I pulled myself up through the doorway.
I’m still not sure what I meant by that. Did I mean “humans” as in the species, or “humans” as in people? I was kind of going on instinct at the time. Either way, it sure got her mad. Her hiss echoed across the stairwell, and the sounds of claws clanking on metal sped up.
More rooms, more furniture. It didn’t take me long to get to the end, not with adrenaline pushing me. It occurred to me, as I pried open the window on “top” of the building and pulled myself through, that I shouldn’t be trying to goad her; I should be trying to lose her. Oh well, I thought, too late for that. Then I set both feet on the rough stone outside, and looked up.
The fallen skyscraper was tilted at a shallow angle, and there were only two ways I could go: down or up. I looked down first, but only saw a steep dropoff and sharp-looking wreckage beneath. So I took off running the other way, hoping I’d find some cover to take. I looked at windows as I passed by them, trying to find one that was open.
By now I was starting to tire, and by that I mean that even through the adrenaline rush I was becoming shaky. My breathing was getting ragged, and my legs were threatening to give out. But then she jumped through the window that I’d come out of, landing lightly on her feet and shaking herself off before looking up at me. That gave me the burst of fear that I needed to run even faster.
Where to go? I thought. But I started to realize there was no place to go, and that even if I found someplace to dive into she’d be on me before I could get inside. So I just put everything into running a straight track between windows, hoping that something would happen.
I passed out of shadow and into the Glare from the crater, and for a moment I thought This is it; at least it will be less painful. But then I remembered I was an anthro at the moment, and the air and concrete seemed to sparkle around me but I was unaffected. The next thing that came to my mind was those nature documentaries where the predator leaps on their prey, and I didn’t look behind me but I knew that was going to happen. My heart rate sped up, and I squinted through tears.
I looked up just in time to see the edge of the building, and for a split-second my brain said Jump! But I stopped just in time, dropping to my knees and scraping to a halt right in front of it.
Right then, two things happened.
First, Laura jumped … and went right over me.
Second, I reached out and caught her hand.
What!? my lizard brain thought, just as I smacked into the side of the building, pushed flat against it by her weight. My arm felt like it was being pulled from its socket, claws dug sharply into my wrist, and I heard more claws scrape on the flat concrete roof. Starting to scrape and slide across the wall, I grabbed onto the edge of a window and tried to hold myself in place, my own claws digging in and scraping across the rough stone.
My shoulder hung over dead air, and my arms were about to give as her weight pulled me towards the edge. Then her claws found purchase on something and she jumped, landing next to me and yanking me up with her. We tumbled for a second and landed in a heap next to each other, plastered to the side of the building and gasping over and over again.
It was probably five or ten minutes before either of us said anything. I could feel my legs, arms, and shoulders cramping up, and could feel the raw skin and the cuts on my hand sting, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I was spent.
Finally she looked up at me. “Why … ” She swallowed, and gasped again. “Why did you do that?”
I wanted to give her a reason, but I couldn’t. I’d done it on instinct, when I saw her flying over the edge. So I just said “The world needs dragons, too.”
Then I fell asleep, the Glare shining off of my scales.
People are starting to get worried. They haven’t seen Zach all day. Nobody knows where he’s gone. Most of them don’t know him personally, but word starts to spread that a human kid disappeared.
Somebody mentions that he remembers seeing Zach down at the shed. Certain supplies have been found to be missing. By evening it’s turned into an argument — how come nobody noticed? Was there anything they could’ve done to stop him from running off? Where was he off to, anyway … and why did he leave his tent, clothes and sleeping bag behind?
The ad hoc search party is radioed back in to camp, and returns in time for dinner. They’re disgusted to hear what happened. Camp leaders are disgusted with themselves. Possible ways to vet new arrivals are discussed. But none of them would have worked in this case; the kid had always seemed clean.
It’s not until late evening that somebody notices a figure walking slowly up to camp, from the road that leads to the city. The spotter does a double-take, when he sees what species she is. And he does another when he sees who she’s carrying in both arms.
I barely remembered being carried back up to the camp. I’d slept through most of that day, and was groggy and incoherent for most of the trip back. I slept through all of the next day too, and when I woke up I didn’t know what time of day it was. I just knew the sun was getting in my eyes.
I moaned and reached up to rub my eyelids, and then I saw that my hands had claws and scales. I stared for a long moment before remembering. After that my long tail started to get cramped up, so I staggered out of my tent and stretched drowsily.
The sun was beginning to set. I could hear the fire crackling and smell the food cooking, and it smelled more delicious than ever. I wondered how long I would stay this way, as I went to get ready for dinner. I also wondered what’d happened to “Laura.”
It was a little while before I got my answer. Someone tapped me on the shoulder while I was finishing eating, and I looked up and jumped. Melinda was standing behind me.
She handed me a crumpled sheet of paper, and said “The girl who brought you here left you this.”
“Huh … ” I took it in one hand and looked over it, holding it to the side because of how my head was now shaped. The writing was hard to make out, and kept trailing off into squiggles as though she’d slipped and lost hold of the pen.
“Everyone thought you’d been kidnapped,” Melinda said. “We had people searching the woods for you.”
“Er, sorry … ”
“You can tell us what happened whenever you’re ready.” She walked off.
I looked more closely at the paper, and read it from the beginning:
“I wish you hadn’t said what you did. Not the last part; the part that got me angry at you.
“One reason is because I wasn’t planning to use that gem yet. I was hoping to get more than one … I wanted to make a dragon community. I wanted to at least share one with you. Now I’m stuck as the only member of an unbelievably desirable species, at least until I can charge a few soulgems enough to share them with others. If I can do that without getting captured or killed.
“The other is because I’m scared that you’re right. I can’t tell anymore how much of it was wishful thinking, and how much was sincere belief. I don’t know, anymore, what I am inside.
“Last night I dreamed I was a human alone in the dragons’ world, and they were trying to hunt me down. Last week I would’ve been worried about what that implied for my inner dragon. Now … I’m not sure I care. It doesn’t matter anymore. Because that’s the life that I’m going to be facing in the waking world, whether I’m a dragon inside or not. And I probably won’t last through the month. Maybe my soul will matter more in the next life.
“I kind of wish that you hadn’t caught me. I guess you did what you had to.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.
” — Maya”
I paced back and forth in front of the fire long after the others had gone to bed, my tail casting a shadow behind me. I kept thinking of what to say, writing long, rambling letters in my head. I wanted to comfort her; I wanted to chastise her; I wanted to make her problems go away and make her feel guilty at the same time. A couple of times I started to type something in awkwardly, trying to press the onscreen keys around my clawtips, then deleted it.
Finally, I wrote this.
“Hi maya
“Having trouble righting on this thing..
“Thanks for taking me back. Sorry to here what happened to you. I hope things turn out well”
I paused for a long moment, frustrated with my phone’s spelling corrections, before taking a deep breath and continuing.
“You are a dragon now. The world needs you in it. Don’t get hung up on what happens tomorrow. Just be yourself.
“Call me if you need anything.
” — Zach”
I pressed “Send.” Then I banked the fire and poured water on it, and left to get ready for bed.
That night Zach has the dream again. Except this time, he’s not a dragon. He’s the lizard that he became, using the soulgem, and he’s using his speed to escape his pursuers. The feeling of running seems real, but this time he’s not scared. He’s confident and full of energy, and they’re not. He taunts them the way he did Maya, and they make amusing mistakes.
By morning his scales will be loose. He’ll be scratching himself the entire day, shedding his skin and losing his tail. The dim soulgem he used wasn’t permanent, and he’ll be human again by next evening.
But not for long. Because whatever he is on the inside, Zach knows what he wants to be, now.
He’s going to become a Racerunner. And he’s going to be the fastest thing in the camp.